


Shadows in the Tower

by The_Plaid_Slytherin



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Brotherly Bonding, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 12:42:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6907708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/pseuds/The_Plaid_Slytherin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After their parents' deaths, Robert and Stannis make an effort at brotherhood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows in the Tower

**Author's Note:**

> I had the thought that I had been neglecting Robert, so I decided to do something about it.

"Shadows on the water, my lord, and shadows in the tower, too!" 

Uncle Harbert slammed his mug down and dragged the back of his hand over his mouth. "Warrior, help me, or I'll break my vow to the maester," he muttered, in a voice too low for it to be for Robert's ears. "But someone needs to put the mad fool out of his misery."

Patchface shuffled, muttering, from one end of the hall to the other, and Robert tightened his grip on the hilt of his dagger. If anything like that ever happened to him, he was sure he would want someone to kill him. He'd rather be dead than not in command of his own mind.

"Under the sea is fit for fish and fools alone, I fear!"

Robert stood, shoving his chair back. "I'll do it." He wasn't sure what it would be like, or how he would do it, but he was the lord now, and it was his responsibility. He was near enough a man to make his own choices. 

Uncle Harbert only watched him. "Think you can manage it, boy?" 

_Like a deer_ , Robert thought, pulling the dagger from its sheath. _Like a deer I've shot and must put down._

"Robert." Maester Cressen's voice stopped him mid-step. "You're not busy, are you, Robert? I would like for you to do me a favor."

Robert shoved his knife back in his belt and strode toward the old man standing in the doorway as though that had been his plan all along.

"Will you take Stannis' supper to him?" Maester Cressen offered a weak smile and the tray, laden down with Stannis' favorites. "I fear it is too far and too heavy for me. My knees, you know." He did not say anything about Patchface.

"Of course, maester."

Robert took the tray and started up the stairs. At least he couldn't hear the ravings of the fool anymore. He stopped in front of Stannis' bedroom and kicked the door several times in lieu of knocking.

"Go away." 

"I can't. Maester Cressen sent me. I don't care if you're not going to eat; just take it."

"Then leave it."

Servants had been leaving trays outside the door for days; none had been touched. Surely, Maester Cressen would be disappointed if Robert did the same.

"I can't open the door. My hands are full."

There was no reply, but a moment later, there was the sound of the bar lifting and the door opened by a hair. By the time Robert had maneuvered himself in, Stannis had dropped back into his chair in front of the cold hearth, staring at it as though he could bring forth the flames by force of will. 

Robert squinted in the darkness, searching for a surface on which to place the tray. The room was somehow both cold and uncomfortably stuffy; only a sliver of the moonlight that had illuminated Robert's climb shone through the gap in the drawn drapes. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been in Stannis' room. 

"I'm leaving it here," he said, setting it on top of the trunk at the foot of Stannis' bed. He turned to go. As he did, his foot crunched on something and he bent to pick it up.

It was a piece of wood. 

Robert turned to the desk by the window. The model ship of which Stannis had been so proud was gone, its pieces strewn on the floor about Robert's feet. 

"You broke your ship?" Robert bent to pick up the bulk of it, still intact on the hearthrug.

"Put that down," Stannis said sharply to the fireplace.

Robert scowled. "Why should I, if you don't want it anymore?"

"Because it's _mine_."

It was a stupid reason, but Robert set it down gently. To his surprise, Stannis wasn't finished. 

"I don't want to finish it without Father," he said, eyes downcast. 

"But that's no reason to smash it." 

Stannis looked up suddenly, as though that had just occurred to him. His eyes were wide and horrified and Robert suddenly felt very guilty for a reason he couldn't identify. Stannis launched himself out of the chair and dropped to his hands and knees, searching the rug and the rushes for each little piece. "Help me," he said, in a voice that held more desperation than anger. Robert dropped down beside him without a word and they spent several silent minutes gathering up the pieces of the ship.

"Is that it?" Robert asked, brushing his hair out of his eyes. 

Stannis' eyes scanned the pieces arrayed on the desk. Some were little more than splinters, but he nodded curtly. "That's it." 

Robert nodded. 

Stannis looked as though he didn't know what to do next. Robert felt a strange surge of protectiveness toward the younger brother who would never have accepted such. 

"Eat," he said, gesturing toward Stannis' tray. "It's getting cold."

Stannis looked at the tray as though he had never seen food before. "Maester Cressen sent it?"

Robert nodded. He knew Stannis would eat for Maester Cressen if not for him. 

Stannis sat on the bed and dug into the heap of mashed potatoes. Neither of them said anything. Stannis must truly have been hungry.

"There was a service," Robert hazarded. He wasn't sure if he ought to leave, but somehow he didn't want Stannis to be alone. It felt wrong; they were all that was left of Mother and Father, other than baby Renly. "You should've come. The septon said nice things."

Stannis didn't pause in eating. "The septon's a fool."

Robert didn't disagree, but it didn't seem entirely right, given the circumstances. Perhaps it was because he hadn't been the one to say it. "Well, he said Mother and Father are with the gods."

Stannis looked at him over his bowl. "Do you believe that?"

"I don't know."

"I don't." Stannis sipped his broth. "And I told him that when he came to see me."

Robert felt himself smile. "So that's what it was? He came down saying he'd never heard such wickedness."

Stannis looked satisfied, as though wickedness had been his goal. He tore a piece of dark brown bread in two and offered half to Robert. "So, what are you going to do?"

Robert wished there was butter, but Stannis didn't use it, so there was none on the tray. "Do about what?"

"Your lordship. You have to run Storm's End now." 

Robert frowned. "I've got Uncle Harbert."

Stannis gave a dismissive snort. "He was a fit castellan while Father was away, but you're almost a man grown. You can't let him be in charge forever."

Robert frowned thoughtfully. He had planned to go back to the Eyrie; in Father's absence, he wanted to see Lord Arryn and get his counsel. "I don't know how to run a castle," he muttered. 

"I do," Stannis said coolly, setting the tray back on the trunk. "I've been watching Uncle Harbert for the past year. He doesn't like to do sums, so he's been having me do them."

Robert raised an eyebrow.

"I can keep doing it for you," Stannis said, as though he was doing Robert some grand favor. "Until I should marry and get my own seat." He looked at Robert out of the corner of his eyes. "Father was going to give Renly and me both our own seats."

"Of course." He had forgotten this sort of thing would be his responsibility, but that seemed right, too.

Stannis got up, stretched, and went to the window. He seemed to pause a moment before pushing open the shutters. Shipbreaker Bay was calm tonight.

"Do you remember when Father would go to King's Landing?" he said suddenly.

Robert nodded. Slowly, he joined Stannis at the window. "We watched for him every night," he said, sitting on the window seat. It seemed so small. He couldn't imagine himself and Stannis being so small, small enough to kneel on it together, their faces pressed to the window. 

Stannis didn't say the rest, that when they at last saw the _Windproud_ at the docks, they would go tearing down the stairs to be there when Father strode in, calling for ale and his sons.

"We'll have to tell Renly what they were like," Stannis said. "He will never know them."

The empty ache was back. At least they remembered them, he and Stannis. Robert could not imagine what it would be like for Renly to grow up never knowing Mother and Father. He swallowed hard.

"I never thought it would be this soon," he said thickly. "I always knew I would have to do it. But not now."

"Father was a year younger than you when Grandfather was slain by Maelys the Monstrous." 

Robert frowned. He had not realized this. Stannis had always had a better head for history, for sums, for everything. He sighed. "I'm sure he didn't feel this stupid." He tried to imagine Father after the war, a battle-forged hero, returning to rule his seat.

"Well, he didn't have a brother," Stannis said. "You have me." There was a glint of something in his eyes, something that was almost Father's mischievous smile, or would be, if Stannis ever smiled.

Robert laughed. It sounded odd; he hadn't laughed in days. "Thank you, Stannis," he said, and he meant it, perhaps more than he had ever meant it. 

Stannis said nothing, but his gaze held Robert's. It was a sort of truce, Robert realized. They were no longer squabbling children, but a lord and his brother. He did not know if it would last, but it meant something now. _Father would be happy_ , he thought. _He always wanted us to get along._

"Tomorrow," Stannis said, stepping back from the window. "We'll look at the books, see if any letters have arrived. Ravens will have been sent, but you'll have to write to each of the stormlords." He said all this as though he had not shut himself up in his own room for three days, as though time were of the essence. "Are you going to bed?" 

Robert thought about the dreary hall, with the mad fool and Uncle Harbert, in the corner, drinking alone, having outlived first his brother and then the brother's son. "I think so." He paused. Stannis was still staring out the window. "Do you need help fixing your ship?"

"I may." His eyes flicked to Robert. "If I do, I'll ask. Good night." 

"Good night."

Robert let himself out of Stannis' room, and he did not hear the bar fall into place after him. It did not seem so insurmountable now, somehow. He still didn't know how he could be as good a lord as Father, didn't even know if he and Stannis could really work as well together as he was envisioning now. Maybe they would be squabbling over the ledgers before the morning was out. But at least they'd have tried. That seemed a fitting memorial.


End file.
